It was, in fact, one of the primary focuses for me for the second half of the pregnancy. Monthly ultrasounds, lots of googling, unbelievably hard and painful medical tests and long and unbearable wait for the results… for some up to five weeks. Sleepless nights, stressful days, breakdowns, the “how could this be?” , “what if’s”. The uncertainty and the wait made the anxiety that much tougher.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I’m the type of person that gets so incredibly and uncontrollably anxious and nervous before big events that I make myself sick. Exams, tests, you name it. So you can imagine how nervous each baby appointment made me.

The day and night before my 20 week ultrasound — one that every pregnant woman has — I was my usual wreck. Couldn’t eat, couldn’t rest, couldn’t sleep, physically unwell. But for me, this was typical. So I didn’t think much of it at the time.

Nervously, I made my way to the hospital for the ultrasound and after the usual long wait, I was taken back to the ultrasound room. As the technician was doing the ultrasound, she abruptly got up with a few pictures she had printed from the ultrasound and informed me to wait while she spoke with the head doctor. I figured it was a routine procedure. What better did I know?

A few minutes passed by, then some more. Soon, it had been over forty minutes and by then… to say I was nervous is the biggest understatement.

What seemed like hours later, the head doctor herself walked in and introduced herself and informed me she would do a repeat quick ultrasound herself. I asked her if there was something wrong, and all she said was she would discuss it shortly. By then I was a mess.

Following the ultrasound, and comparing to the pictures from the earlier sonogram… she mentioned that the ultrasound was showing an absence of a nasal bone. When I asked her what it meant, she said it was associated with being a marker for a chromosomal abnormality.

As if I wasn’t already at a complete standstill as it was, the next words I hear from this woman are these most disgusting words I’ve ever heard in my life: “Are you going to keep ‘it’ ‘?

I’ll be honest, for quite a while, I didn’t even comprehend that she meant am I going to continue on with the pregnancy. It has been mere minutes since she has given me the most unexpected/surprising/depressing news ever… and she is asking me this?

WHAT DO YOU MEAN AM I GOING TO KEEP “IT”?

A) Don’t call my baby an “it”.

B) Yes, I am going to keep my baby. He is a baby, MY BABY, not some merchandise I bought at the mall that I’m still deciding on whether I want to keep “it” or not. A baby. My baby. A human being.

C) As a medical professional, don’t ever EVER EVER: ask someone something like whether they are going to continue a pregnancy or choose to terminate it by phrasing it as “ARE YOU GOING TO KEEP ‘IT’ “!

Not someone crying in front of you. Not a pregnant woman present alone at the ultrasound. Not a pregnant woman who you just told the aforementioned news to. Definitely not to a combination of all three of the aforementioned. Not even to the most heartless person alive. Yes, there are people who would choose to terminate, and I am not judging anyone… but the phrasing of that question in any matter was unforgivable.
Shortly thereafter, I walked out of that room signed up for an amniocentesis a few days later, barely knowing what that was (among other tests).

What was supposed to be a one week bed rest, following the amniocentesis, turned into a longer than six weeks bed rest where stairs weren’t even allowed… and I was basically allowed to get out of bed to go to the bathroom only. Throw in the terrible all-day sickness I had all pregnancy long… let me tell you it was not pleasant. The risk of a miscarriage and/or something happening to Arham was incredibly high, and that fear never left my mind even for a moment.

It’s something I shared with only a hand few when it was happening. I don’t know what it was, maybe that if I kept it to myself, this nightmare couldn’t be true? Who knows.

Up until Arham’s birth, at 39 weeks gestation, I was bound for endless ultrasounds, weekly appointments… each time being reminded that there was still not a nasal bone. Each time, a punch to my stomach. Each time making me doubt myself. Each time questioning myself whether I was being selfish in continuing the pregnancy and whether I did the right thing by continuing the pregnancy knowing how difficult life would be for my baby.

On September 28, 2015 at 9:44 AM I was blessed beyond words to finally hold Arham in my arms. I am assuming each new mom feels the ecstatic joy that can’t be put into words, but I think it’s fair to say that I had a little more at stake than most. Alhumdulillah times a million wouldn’t be enough to express my gratitude to Allah for the perfection that Arham truly is.

The first few months of Arham’s life were difficult, and I had the constant thought in my head that maybe something really was wrong… but in December it was verified that his nasal bone was in tact.

Lesson learned? Leave everything in the hands of Allah. He has thrown many incredibly difficult challenges my way in the last few years, but I have overcome each of them learning more of my strength each time.

It’s said that Allah only tests you to your limit… and that He tests those strong enough to face them. Each time, I feel like I am not capable of taking it, or WHY ME??, or that, THIS time it is surely more than what I am capable of handling, He brings ease and relief my way and reminds me that keeping faith will get you through the most difficult of times.

Yes, it’s almost ten months since Arham was born. Yes, it’s been over 14 months since all of this started. So why share now? My mom recently shared a story about some distant relative who had a miscarriage because of some issues and the tests she needed to take. My thought at that time was I wish I had someone to discuss what I was going through. Family will always have your back, but sometimes you need someone who is in the same situation (or has been in the same situation) because they truly are the only ones who get what you are feeling or going through.

Everyone says that the pain felt by your child(ren) is the worst thing you will feel, and I learned that very early on. It is in our innate nature as mothers to protect our child(ren), keep them safe, and keep them from harm’s way. I am constantly reminded, and humbled, by the fact what could have been and alhumdulillah… what is instead.

The unwavering support of my parents and brothers at the most difficult time I have faced thus far is something I’ll be thankful forever. They have not only been my largest cheering squad, but when it matters most– they are my strength in every hardship I face.

The love my parents and brothers have for Arham melts my heart daily. Each day, the huge smile on Arham’s face when Abu (Arham’s Nana-Abu) gets home from work is something I look forward to. The goodnight ritual Arham has with Ami (Arham’s Nani-Ami) that he won’t do with anyone else makes me laugh daily.